Chapter 12: The Woman In The Photograph
I stared at the photograph until my eyes hurt.
My father.
Alive.
Older.
Different.
But unmistakably him.
And beside him…
My mother.
The same woman standing ten feet away from me.
The same woman who claimed she had been hiding for seven years.
I looked up.
“What is this?””
Everyone went silent.
My mother saw the phone in my hand.
Her face changed.
“Where did you get that?””
I laughed.
“That’s my question.””
She stepped closer.
“Lily, listen.””
“No.””
I moved away.
“You don’t get to say that anymore.””
The words hurt her.
But I needed her to understand.
I was tired of being the child in a room full of adults making decisions.
Thomas looked at the photograph.
Then smiled slightly.
“Interesting.””
Daniel looked at him.
“You sent that.””
Thomas shook his head.
“No.””
“Then who did?””
Nobody answered.
I looked at the picture again.
The background was unfamiliar.
A small house.
A wooden porch.
My father looked healthy.
Happy.
Not like a man being held prisoner.
Not like a man running for his life.
Like a man living.
“Mom.””
She looked at me.
“Why is Dad smiling?””
She started crying.
“Because he wanted me to know he was okay.””
I froze.
“You knew where he was?””
A long silence.
Then:
“Yes.””
The pain was immediate.
“You knew?””
“I knew he was alive.””
“You let me believe he was dead.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
My voice became quiet.
“You were protecting yourself.””
She looked like I had slapped her.
And maybe that was worse.
Because I was finally saying the words I had buried for years.
Daniel stepped forward.
“Lily, there is something else.””
I looked at him.
“What now?””
He hesitated.
“Your father contacted me six months ago.””
My eyes widened.
“What?””
My mother looked at him.
“You never told me?””
Daniel ignored her.
“He wanted to meet you.””
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t he?””
Daniel looked away.
“Because someone found him first.””
The room went cold.
“Who?””
Daniel looked toward Thomas.
Thomas immediately shook his head.
“Not me.””
For the first time, I believed him.
Because his fear looked real.
Then my mother whispered:
“Victor.””
Everyone turned.
“What?””
She looked at me.
“Victor found Ethan.””
My stomach dropped.
“But Victor is dead.””
My mother’s face went pale.
“No.””
A terrible silence followed.
“He isn’t.””
I stepped back.
“How many people in my life are alive that I thought were dead?””
Nobody answered.
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
This time, no photograph.
Just words.
*Your mother knows where Ethan is.*
I looked at her.
She looked terrified.
I showed her the message.
“Do you?””
She didn’t answer.
That was all I needed.
“You do.””
“Lily…”
“Where is he?””
Tears rolled down her face.
“I can’t tell you.””
My anger returned.
“Why?””
“Because if you find him…”
She stopped.
“Because what?””
She looked at me.
“Because he asked me never to bring you to him.””
The sentence broke something inside me.
My father was alive.
My mother knew.
And both of them had chosen silence.
I whispered:
“Why?””
My mother looked at the photograph.
Then at me.
“Because your father is dying.””
The room disappeared.
“What?””
She cried quietly.
“He has a disease. He didn’t want you to remember him as someone who left.””
My knees felt weak.
“He’s dying?””
She nodded.
“And there’s one more thing you need to know.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
Her voice dropped.
“The person who exposed his location…”
She looked at Daniel.
Then Thomas.
Then me.
“Was someone from your own family.””
I held my breath.
“Who?””
My mother closed her eyes.
May you like
And whispered the name.
“Rebecca.””
